Chapter 10
He claimed her mouth like he owned it.
Not gentle. Not careful. He kissed her like he’d been starving for it, desperate and rough, every part of him demanding more.
The small sound she made was lost into his mouth as she kissed him back just as desperately. Going up on her toes to get closer, to get more, she pressed her whole body against his.
The taste of her exploded through him. Sweet from the spiced kasta, but underneath that was pure Juni. Warm and sweet and utterly hers.
He slid his hands into her hair, careful of the comb he’d made her, tilting her chin up so he could deepen the kiss.
Her tongue touched his and his control cracked.
A surge of heat flooded his veins, his erection straining painfully, throbbing with every flick of her tongue against his.
He backed her against the porch rail, caging her with his body, one hand braced on the wood while the other cupped her jaw.
Draanth. She was so small. So soft. He could break her without trying, and here she was pulling him closer instead of running.
He broke the kiss to breathe, to think, to remember why this was a bad idea—
“Goraath.” His name on her lips was breathless and wanting. Her face was flushed, lips swollen from his kiss, and her pupils blown wide with the same need eating him alive. “Please.”
That single word destroyed him.
Bending, he scooped her up, one arm behind her knees, the other around her back. She was light as air in his arms, her curves pressing against him everywhere. The soft weight of her breasts against his chest sent fresh waves of arousal through him.
“Finally,” she breathed against his throat, then her mouth was there, pressing kisses to his neck, his jaw, anywhere she could reach. Her teeth grazed his pulse point and his knees nearly buckled. The sharp nip made his balls tighten, his shaft aching with the need for friction, for her.
He made it to the porch before he had to stop. Had to press her back against the door and claim her mouth again because she’d slipped her hand under his collar, fingernails dragging across his shoulder, sending fire racing across his skin.
The kiss went wild. Her legs wrapped around his waist, bringing her core against the evidence of what she did to him. He groaned into her mouth and ground against her, just once, and she gasped his name against his lips.
“Inside. Need to—”
“Yes.” She reached for the door handle, twisting it while still kissing him. “Yes, yes, please—”
They crashed through the doorway. He kicked it shut, started down the hall, but then her hand slipped under his shirt.
Skin on skin. Her palm flat against his abdomen, fingers spreading like she wanted to touch all of him at once.
Her touch was electric, trailing fire down to where his erection strained against his pants.
He pinned her against the wall.
This kiss was different. Slower but more intense. His tongue sliding against hers, tasting, claiming, while her hands explored under his shirt. Every touch made his cock harder, the insistent pulse of his arousal growing almost unbearable and his control slipped another notch.
“Bedroom.” The word came out rough, little more than a growl. “Now.”
She nodded, both of them breathing too hard, too fast. He carried her the rest of the way, shoulder checking his bedroom door open.
He kicked the door shut and set her on her feet beside it.
They stood there for a moment, looking at each other. Her hair was a mess from his hands, the comb he’d made sitting crooked. Her lips were red and swollen. Flushed and rumpled and perfect.
Mine, his instincts roared with satisfaction.
“Too many clothes.” Her hands went to his shirt, tugging. “Off.”
He helped her pull it over his head, watched her face as she saw him for the first time.
All of him. He’d been a hunter, so he hadn’t had access to a healer’s hall like most warriors.
Which meant he had scars. Lots of them. The massive one across his chest from claws that had nearly ended him.
The burn marks on his back. Dozens of others…
Her breath caught. But not with fear. Her eyes went dark with something else entirely.
“Oh,” she breathed and reached out, fingertips tracing the worst scar, the one that curved across his ribs. The gentle stroke sent shivers down his spine. “You’re beautiful.”
Beautiful. Him? No, she was insane. But she was his.
She leaned in and pressed her mouth to his skin. The wet warmth of her lips on his flesh made heat punch through his chest, a low ache building in his balls.
“Your turn.” His voice didn’t sound like his own. Too rough. Too raw.
She nodded, eyes never leaving his as he caught the hem of her thermal shirt. Lifted it slow, giving her time to stop him. She raised her arms instead, helping him pull it off. Underneath was a thin tank that did nothing to hide her curves.
“This too?” He pulled at the hem of the tank.
“Everything.” The word came out breathy, but certain. “I want everything.”
He peeled the tank up and off, revealing soft skin and curves that made his mouth water.
Her breasts were full, and tipped with pink nipples already tight from cold or arousal or both.
Her waist curved in, hips flared out. She was all softness where he was hard angles, all warmth where he was sharp edges.
Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
She started to cross her arms over herself, insecurity flickering across her face. He caught her hands, gentle but firm.
“No.” He pulled her arms down, let himself look. Really look. “You’re...”
The words wouldn’t come in Terran. They spilled out in Latharian instead, as he told her she was perfect, beautiful, that every curve made him want things he’d never let himself want before.
He brushed the soft swell of her breasts, feeling the rapid beat of her heart, his own arousal spiking as her skin flushed under his gaze.
“Bed,” she whispered, walking backward, pulling him with her. “Please.”
He followed her down onto his bed, covering her smaller body with his. The contrast should have worried him… he was too big, too heavy, too much. But she arched up against him, skin sliding against skin, and he couldn’t have formed a thought if his life depended on it.
She explored his chest, his arms, his back with soft, little hands. Each caress fueled the fire in his veins and he ached to be buried inside her, the pressure building to an exquisite edge.
Kissing her again, he curved his hand around her breast. The firm weight filled his palm perfectly, her nipple pebbling under his touch, drawing a moan from him as his erection ground against her hip.
She gasped into his mouth when he brushed his thumb across her nipple, her hips lifting to press against him.
Even through their clothes, he could feel her heat. The scorching warmth of her core against his thigh made his cock twitch, slick with pre-cum, desperate for more.
“Been thinking about this.” The confession escaped before he could stop it. “Every night. Lying here, knowing you were down the hall. Driving me insane.”
“Me too.” She pulled him down for another kiss. “Since the hot springs—”
She cut herself off, face flushing.
He pulled back. “The hot springs?”
Her face went scarlet.
“I... the night after we went to town. I went for a walk and...” She pressed her face against his shoulder. “I saw you.”
She’d seen him. That night when he’d been trying to burn off the same desperate want that plagued him now. When he’d stood in that pool thinking about her in his kitchen, in his house, in his life.
His lips quirked at the corners. “You watched me?”
A tiny nod against his shoulder.
Heat roared through him. Not anger. Something primal and possessive and deeply satisfied.
She’d watched him and wanted him. Had been thinking about it, about him, just like he’d been thinking about her.
The revelation made his cock swell even harder, the thought of her aroused gaze on him pushing him closer to the brink.
“Show me.” He pulled back to look at her face. “Show me what you did after.”
Her eyes went wide. “Goraath—”
“Did you touch yourself?” he demanded. “Thinking about me?”
Her face was red but she held his gaze, brave even in embarrassment. “Yes.”
The single word undid him. His cock was so hard it hurt, pressing against the confines of his pants, demanding freedom, demanding her.
“I need—” He couldn’t finish the sentence. Need was too small a word for this all-consuming hunger.
“Me too.” She arched up, pressing every inch of available skin against his. “Please.”
They still had lower layers on—her thermal leggings, his work pants—but that distance felt unbearable.
He wanted skin. All of it. Wanted to taste every inch of her, learn what made her gasp, what made her moan, what made her come apart.
The fabric barrier only heightened his frustration, his erection straining against it, craving the wet heat he could scent between her thighs.
But not yet. He kissed her instead, pouring everything he couldn’t say into it. Everything he’d been holding back. All the want he’d been fighting. The need that had been eating him alive since she’d walked through his door with her Christmas cheer and her stubborn optimism.
Her legs tangled with his, trying to get closer.
She touched his back, finding sensitive spots he didn’t know he had.
When she dragged her nails lightly down his spine, he had to bury his face in her neck to keep from losing it entirely.
The scrape sent jolts straight to his groin, his balls drawing tight.
“You’re going to kill me,” he muttered against her throat.
“Good way to go though.” Her voice was teasing but breathless, her pulse racing under his lips.